The Line
by Thatswhatyouthink
Summary: She was waiting for the angel of death. In him, she found solace, release, her angel. Dark, Suicidal sort of themes, Nonexplicit sex, Death. DMGWTR. Oneshot.


**The Line**

By Nikki

He could still feel her body, lying warm but limp in his arms. She had called him an angel. He had to be the worst angel ever.

Ginny hadn't been sane for a long time. For a few years after Tom had his way with her, she had managed to keep the mind-ravaging darkness at bay, but after Harry's death and the beginning of Voldemort's reign on the wizarding world, she lost all control. How she longed for death, that sweet release from her relentless hunger for Tom, the burning guilt she felt whenever she remembered him taking everything from her, and the emptiness left by her total isolation and loneliness. In the final battle, she had lost her whole family, Hermione, and Harry. At times, she wondered if she was not also dead and suffering in some freakish hell for her sins. All the same, she stayed in her dark fortress, guarded by physical and mental walls, none very sturdy, where she waited for death, in whatever form it came.

To her surprise, her first visitor came not from the heavens, but he was just effective.

Draco had little left. His father, the stupid bastard, had gotten himself killed in the final battle. The manor was destroyed. His mother was reduced to a useless crying skeleton after Lucius' death. The fortunes had gone to Voldemort's cause. And though Draco was now the Dark Lord's right-hand man, taking orders began to get dull after the rush of having such immense power waned. He needed a break from being the second-in-command of an army of Deatheaters. He needed to get away from his responsibilities and… He didn't know what, but if he got the chance to get away, he was sure to find out. Certainly the Dark Lord would understand a man's need for a vacation. _Ha._

Draco, not pausing to think of the consequences, apparated to the only place where he could think of no Deatheater going. Lo and behold, when he arrived, he found the one remaining Weasley had found refuge at the Burrow as well.

Ginny first noticed the 'pop' of someone apparating outside the front door. After listening closely, she heard her fate walking up the stairs towards her room. Maybe he heard her heart beating, or the soft sigh of each ragged breath that refused to be her last. But when he opened the door to her room, before even checking any of the others, she knew it was the 'plop' of tears falling on the warped wooden floor that led him to her. But he didn't realize that her tears were those of joy, not pain, not fear. Finally, if only for the short moment preceding her death, she would have some company. For a fraction of a second before that glorious green flash, she would not be lonely. For the first time in weeks, it seemed, Ginny had the strength to raise her head to face her bringer of light. Her beautiful angel of death.

When she saw his face, and instantly recognized that combination of silver hair and sharp aristocratic features, she laughed. And she couldn't stop.

She was obviously insane. That was easy enough to see, and he was never blind. Despite her deranged laughter and ragged appearance, Draco thought she looked just as beautiful as she had back in their school days. Such a bright, glowing, childish face, complemented so perfectly with her indescribably dark eyes. He knew full well about the diary, and had heard some disturbing rumors of how Tom had… It wasn't a pleasant past, to say the least. But he always wondered what lay behind those dead eyes of Ginny Weasley. Perhaps he would get his chance now. He took a seat beside her and waited for her laughter to cease.

"What are you waiting for?" The words startled him, and he turned sharply to her in surprise. She met his gaze full-on, her face showing hopeful interest and his a mix of amusement and confusion.

"I'm not waiting for anything," he answered lamely. If he wanted to get into that sweetly tainted brain of hers, he would certainly have to do better than that. While he considered his next move, she spoke again.

"Is it possible to love an angel?" she asked. He wasn't entirely sure he had just heard what he thought he heard. An angel? Weren't angels the things with wings and halos?

"Is it wha—" he was cut off by her lips crashing onto his. He immediately felt a cool wind blow out the fire blazing in his stomach. _It's not such a bad feeling_, he decided, and put his arm around her waist. She settled into the embrace and deepened the kiss. He pressed her small form against his. She belonged to him now. She had always belonged to him. With this realization, somewhere deep in Draco's mind, a connection with reality snapped, and nothing up until the current tidal wave of despair washing over him had ever happened. He forgot everything up until his moment of undoing. Ginny had undone him with her sweet sweet hopelessness. As he caressed her he wanted nothing more than to taste every anguish that had touched her ruined soul. He wanted to be consumed by her darkness.

Ginny was finally reunited with her angel. Her beautiful Tom was loving her again. He whispered things like "I want to taste your pain," as he stroked her. He gave her his "I love you"s through gritted teeth as he thrust into her. It was like her first time, except that Tom had changed. He was older, no longer his sixteen-year-old self. He had grown up. And his hair had changed; it was lighter now. The silver hair hanging in his eyes made him more angelic than ever as he screamed and poured into her. _Did angels scream?_ she thought foggily before she let him carry her into the bath. His hands always felt so nice on her skin—so smooth. She didn't mind when he said, "Let me become your darkness." And he was so gentle when he pushed her head under the water. His face became distorted through the waves, but the light shining above him illuminated his hair, and she knew that her angel had finally come for her. She didn't see the light in his eyes die out as she let go. She was going home.

He tried to fight the Deatheaters, but he couldn't seem to find his wand. He had seen a flash of green light, and by that he tried to discern the faces of the traitors who would soon suffer terribly. But he had first to wake Ginny. She would not open her eyes, no matter how he shook her. He finally conceded to hold her until she awoke. And there the light died on the sad couple, Draco holding her body half-in half-out of the tub, drenched with bathwater and tears.

She had called him an angel. Maybe he was.

End

A/N: I haven't really had this checked, I hope you can forgive my mechanical errors. Hopefully I will change them later. I just wanted to get this posted before I lost my nerve. I haven't written in a LONG time.


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